


Another End, Another Beginning

by Aulynduel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Drabble, Dragons, Flash Fic, Gen, Hope, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Loneliness, References Deathwing, Short One Shot, World of Warcraft: Cataclysm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aulynduel/pseuds/Aulynduel
Summary: Wrathion reflects on a job well done.





	Another End, Another Beginning

Every single one was gone.

The task he set for himself since before he was born was complete.

Most would let out a sigh of relief and sit back, reflect on a job well done.

The last black dragon flapped through the air at the most unsatisfying, slow and awkward pace, his whelp form not even allowing him the comfort of flying swiftly and mindlessly through the clouds. He was growing, but even then, his youth denied him the natural therapy of soothing flight, while his father’s weakness and madness denied him the comfort and nurturing of a family.

Loneliness was no foreign emotion to him. It was painfully embedded in his very nature to miss his clutch brothers and sisters. Nevertheless, he had no family. His clutch had been murdered; some unsuccessfully experimented on and tossed away.

A soft huff of smoke left him as he descended toward the cloudy summit of a mountain not fare from Ravenholdt.

Small claws scraped and clicked against the stone as he landed, stumbling a bit as a particularly large gust of wind nearly knocked him over. He glared up at the dull gray sky, as if it had no right, only to realize that even as The Black Prince, the wind didn’t care for him.

Normally the total absence of care for his welfare was, admittedly, not easy to ignore, but at least tolerable. Yet, with Fahrad’s death, the weight of his cursed parentage lifted only to burden him further with isolation.

Wrathion narrowed his eyes and his small chest began to glow bright in the dim, cloudy atmosphere. A deeper pain welled with the heat, and he let out an admittedly weak stream of molten lava, chased with a loud screech that was his current roar. The magma fell to the ground, creating a thick, black stain of smoking rock, the searing red outline making it look like a wound against the dark, harsh mountain.

The drake reached out a claw and set it against the smoldering stone face, his tiny appendage slowly transforming; the skin shifting a few shades lighter than his scales, stronger, dexterous fingers leading to decent sized claws. The irony did not elude him.

Turbulent emotions heated those warm brown fingers, and his hand sank into the rock as it yielded. His claws dug into it, scraping out a chunk of the malleable, blackened flame.

He held it in his hand and crossed his legs, his back to the wind. Crimson eyes stared at the partially solid lava, hand heating it till there was nearly a bubbling puddle in his hand, only to let it cool in the breeze.

The drake lifted a nail to score the soft surface a few times. Meaningless lines.

Black claws brushed the base of his palm as he clenched the moldable rock in his fist tightly. He narrowed his eyes as tendrils of smoke curled and dissipated from between his fingers.

Slowly, he uncoiled his fist to stare at the figure he’d created.

The vague shape of a single, mature dragon sat cradled in his hand.

Black and glinting like a glimpse into the future.

He smiled.


End file.
